Not another Goa trip post

It’s been a very eventful Goa trip. Thinking of it, this is only my fifth occasion of coming to Goa and the boredom has already set in. Not that five trips is anything to boast of, I know some one who would travel to Goa every weekend.

As she puts it, things love makes us do.

Sorry to digress, but Goa has never really enchanted me the way it interests most other people. Maybe because I am a teetotaler and some the greatest joys or so that Goa offers are the ones I won’t indulge in.

What interests me always is how this place has face, an identity and a flavour that is truly local. In a day and time where every place wants to be a ‘me too’, Goa has retained its character.

Whether it is the distinctly Portuguese architecture or the names that have a beautiful ring of Konkani. Mapusa, Baga, Colva and many more.

What I personally find extremely engrossing is the kind of tourists who turn up and the effect of Goa on them.

You have the middle-aged uncle wearing a ‘I love Goa’ t-shirts, the ones with a palm tree and an orange setting sun. The tee is really tight and it displays his ample girth. He wears a very weary looking pair of shorts and has sports shoes to go with them. Mind you, socks included, that go up almost half way till the knees. He also wears the cane hat and really loud shades that harm his and our eyes.

Then there are the wannabe cool dudes who roam around in the stupidest of ganjis, trying to show off the ever-slight triceps that refuse to reveal over the folds of fat. They will find the freakiest corners of Shapora and Aguada fort to click pictures that declare to the world and the on-looking tourists of their fleeting bravado. These pictures then make their way to Facebook in albums titled ‘Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa’.

I really and honestly pity the Maharashtrian aunties who go around Goa’s tourist ‘points’ in sarees. I can’t even imagine how it is to be in the hot sun, under so many metres of cloth and still appreciate the beauty of Goa. Even they have a moment of so-called turning modern by wearing shades and the cane hat. I guess all this is included in the package of being the good housewife.

Then you have the PYTs who really make us think that anorexia is really an issue next only to global warming. The crazy side of even the most demure girls will come out in a place like Goa. The flea markets of Anjuna are good enough to excite them but I will never come to terms with the idea of ‘Shopping’ in Goa. I really cannot digest the assumption that Goa is the only place where you get ‘this kind of good stuff’. Or then maybe I worship Colaba Causeway a little too much.
Then come the real cool dudes.

The Firangs.

These are the guys who really live it up. I am not exactly buried under the colonial burden of being the Children of a lesser God. But their free spirited approach and the love for life is contagious. Armed with the coolest bikes and well chiselled bodies, Goa is an experience for them rather than a destination.

Whether it is surfing in the sea, sunbathing, leafing through a book over a joint and vodka, making a distinct statement with their innumerable tattoos, mingling with the Goans as if they were blood brothers once or simply sitting by the Mandovi river making mental notes.

But I think most of all what Goa gives itself and every visitor is a feel of the most untangible feeling of COOL.

Like someone puts it, Goa is not a state, it’s a state of mind.

Random and not so random

I hate people who stand inside ATMs counting cash when there are 20 people in queue outside

I think parallel parking is an art.

I think the best movie reviews are the ones you write yourself.

I am the guy making irritated sounds when you were on the phone in the movie hall.

On Facebook, who thinks up quizzes like, “What car are you?” What kinds of psychos actually get an ego massage if they are declared as Mercedes or Lamborghini?

Do people really keep in touch with 644 friends in their friend’s lists? Or is it just an ego trip?

I think napping at work should be compulsory. Research has proved it improves efficiency.

I am soon going to buy some land in the mountains. Someday not very far off, those will be the only places habitable.

I think Steve Jobs is fostering a whole generation that will go deaf far sooner than a generation before us. I still think Ipod is all hype. Don’t you think going through iTunes is a pain when copy-pasting files is far more easier?

80 GB of songs is IMPOSSIBLE to listen to.

I think amazingly cool personalities are rare. The rest of us get by with Nike, iPods and hip-hop.

After a lot of observation, I think the phrase “She is way out of my league” should be officially banned.

I think most of the tremendously talented people are also the most humble.

There are no accidents in real life. Everything has been planned before hand.

I believe life teaches you the same lessons over and over again till you learn them well.

Luck By Chance - A must watch

“Maine death scene mein saara emotion nichod liya. Ab aur sad scenes kiya to movie dull ho jayegi.

We HAVE to move from highlight to highlight”

The words in bold are exactly the words the embody Zoya Akhtar’s second movie, ‘LuckByChance’. We all have seen great films. Some grow on you with every passing minute and then there are others that grip you from frame one. LuckByChance is of the second kind. I am going to concentrate on the writing aspect mostly because the script has set a standard for great screenwriting.

Right from the opening credit sequence, one can experience the rigour that has gone into the film. Beautifully shot and composed with an amazing song, the opening itself promises a great film. It seems as if its been created on a storyboard before it was shot and lived even before it was made into a storyboard.

One might argue that it is an easy subject to make a film on. But it is actually very tough to look within, to look at the strengths of this industry, its weaknesses and still come out on top without forgetting to hugely entertain.

The film is essentially an underdog story and how he makes it big with the help of many factors. The plots and the sub-plots seamlessly intertwine to bring about this story that is really engrossing.

The characters are beautifully written. I loved Farhan Akhtar’s character. Rarely do we see such an amazingly written grey character. He is hardworking, smart, optimist, gem of a friend, charming and at the same time he is street smart, a cheat and knows what buttons to push to get the results he wants. Awesome.

I think Rishi Kapoor has given the performance of a lifetime. Loud, colourful, deeply passionate about his work and a very emotional character. He has played the role of a film producer to the T. I can see Vashu Bhagnani written all over it.

Ending the movie with Konkona Sen was I think the finest endings to a movie. There are no happy endings in real life and the fact that she remained a strong woman throughout the movie, and not falling for Farhan even after he apologises was a refreshing break from the cliché.

Even the small character are written and played out extremely well. Be it Farhan’s school friend who is a better actor than him or Juhi Chawla’s sister who tries hard to fit into a world she doesn’t belong.

All throughout, we see the selfishness as a strong underlying theme. Be it Hrithik leaving Rishi Kapoor’s movie for a Karan Johar starrer or Konkona Sen letting Chaudhary exploit her for a big break or Farhan buttering up Dimple for his own gains. Maybe its human nature or maybe it’s the industry, but this theme brings out the best and the worst in the movie’s characters.

In one scene, we see an extra walking out of the frame with some very funny sticks and balls protruding out of her back before the bawre song. I think that one scene spoke so much. Our movies are so unreal in a very real world. In a real setting, that looked so stupid but when I saw the same thing in the bawre song, it fit perfectly.

All in all, it’s the kind of movie that makes you weekend. It made mine at least.

U there?

Have you ever felt the feeling of being left out? When you want to be a part of the action, the party, the fun, the thing to do or the place to be and all you get is your loneliness in the crowd. Its that extremely excruciating position where you are there but you are not really there. You exist, albeit in a different realm of existence.

I was once not selected in a cricket team. I love the sport. I mean I am completely insane about it to the extent that I can watch old test matches ball-by-ball. I got depressed and didn’t eat for two days when India crashed out of the World Cup in the first round.

It really really really hurt when I didn’t see my name figure in that list of names. I saw people leaving for the gymkhana. There were others who weren’t selected but they went for the match anyways just as spectators. I couldn’t get myself to go. I hate being a substitute. I had waited for that moment for two years and it almost came to me and evaded me.

I can still feel that helplessness. I sat out the whole day in my room.

Its so strange na. If you are on the other side, you really wouldn’t care too much about someone who isn’t part of the action you are enjoying. Oh there must be some reason why he/she isn’t a part of the fun. Cest la Vie n all that.

Life suddenly seems very unfair the moment you realise you are the excluded one too. All of life’s injustices and so called unfair moments come back to you. Life suddenly seems extremely unfair. You realise, life has only been unfair. If someone else has gotten something you haven’t, its always been easy for them, born with a silver spoon, rich well connected uncle or whatever. But you are the unfortunate one who has been heaped upon with life’s misfortune and luckless existence.

No I don’t intend to get philosophical about this queer situation because we all have our own mechanism to deal with something like this. I just accept it and move on. I mean, what can I really do. No gyaan. Just try not to let too much of heartburn happen, be candid about it and move on. But it definitely screws your happiness for the time being.

Keep walking dude.

The other side...

I love reading the newspapers. Nothing like sitting alone on a Sunday afternoon and relishing the features, special stories etc etc in the papers. Though that doesn’t happen too often.

They say newspapers are the mirror of society, a reflection of the zeitgeist, showing the general mindset of the masses, the general goings on, the wheelings and dealings, information-communication-entertainment or the other way around and loads more.

Then we have the stories.

And sometimes I wonder if there is another side. I don’t doubt or discredit the journalistic capabalities of the scribes but my Rashomonesque curiosity eggs me on to think beyond the obvious.

Was Ganguly’s inclusion in the team merely on his meagre performances in the domestic circuit? Are you really telling me that all those other batsmen out there in the wilderness who score tons of runs consistently every season are not worthy of a look in? Take the case of Amol Muzumdar of Mumbai, the mainstay of the batting. Years of consistent performance have not given him a look in. Maybe the left leaders just couldn’t see their wonder boy out fo the team. Maybe Sharad Pawar had other implicit pressures or maybe Prince of Kolkata is really irreplaceable.

Who knows.

Not saving the world!!!

We wakeup every morning and go to work and revel in the fact that we have a job. And that we have a very good chance of making a career. We are happy in the fact that we can pay our own bills and for a change you don’t have to butter up mom or dad for the slick new cell phone or some new fangled gadget.

But lets face it. We are not creating a cure for AIDS nor are we doing stuff that will be written about someday by someone in edits, op-eds or some insane thesis. Is our job really that great? No not really on an individual level. On a very universal level, we all moving like a herd. Same direction, same ambitions, same self-help crap to egg us on whenever our spirits are on the wane and the same issues in different camouflages hounding us.

But there are some people who do make a difference to our lives. I am not talking about the doctors who cure patients and the engineers who create environment friendly engines. I am talking about those unsung heroes who will never be entitled to a Nobel prize and the closest they shall get to appreciation is probably a paycheck that arrives on time.

One such profession for me is the BMC workers. These are the guys who keep the drainages clean and ensure that when we go to the loo in the morning, we can download peacefully and not worry about waste disposal. It takes something to go down into those morbid manholes which emit a repelling stench and actually do the clean up job that needs to be done. I wouldn’t do the job for a million dollars (Now don’t calculate how much that is in Rupees…so typically us!!!).


These guys still go on with the job, day in and day out. And mind you, many of these are graduates from good colleges but have stuck to this job because either father did it and he got a matchbox size accomodation as a perk and so the son was expected to take over the mantle and keep the shelter the family has had for years.

Its quite amazing how someone can actually do that for years and years. I might be sounding naïve but then I still have that childlike wonder alive in me. This job really is the most underestimated job and definately most unappreciated. Thankless would be an understatement.

And we revel in a great appraisal.

A new University?

I was watching Rang De Basanti on DVD last night. Yea.. we all love the movie… we all laughed and cried and felt the same emotions and well.. I am particularly crazy about the bike sequence after the intro of DJ.. the wheelie n stuff with rock music for background score.. wow!!!

But I think the most resonating scene in the movie is the one between DJ n Sue while they are sitting in the SUV n Sukhi and Karan leave to drop Aslam off till him home. As my friend puts it, you got to have lived it to write that scene.

It hasn’t made more sense to me than today. It has been around a year and a half since I graduated. We did take on life the way it came our way. Nervous trainees. Scary bosses. Scarier clients. Crappy assignments. Interesting assignments. First salary. Opening your first bank account. Getting calls from banks to sell credit cards which you never need. Stress actually affecting your health. Missing college. Bunking lectures. Slipping outta class before the next lecturer came. Missing the careless and carefree life. Missing matinee shows. Missing cheap food in the canteen. Missing the mandatory diwali and summer vacations.

But what I miss most is my friends. No no no.. I havent lost any of them and we do keep in touch. But yea… that’s the deal… we keep in touch. We just manage to meet up on weekends. I know this is a phase of life too. I have accepted it. But without and iota of doubt… those days rocked. At the risk of sounding like an oldie… golden days man. Yea I do live in the past a lot… n I think its worth it. Somewhere I do feel like DJ within. Maybe we all feel like him felt at some point. Scared. Insecure. Feeling to stay in that protected environment forever.

Bahar ki duniya mein acche acche DJ pis gaye.

Can there be a way? Can there be a way to live it all over again?

I have been toying with this idea. There is a way out for all those who wanna experience insane college days once again. Maybe start a university which offers courses which are not in the main stream arena of education. Something like pottery, painting, playing the guitar, photography or anything that maybe we all wanted to learn but could never do for whatever reasons. For all you want it could be rock climbing or other adventure sports, gardening or horse riding.

Yea yea I know there are people and institutions that can teach you all of this. But is there a place that teaches ALL of these things under one roof?

And moreover as working professionals, its extremely difficult to find the time. And learning out here could be a welcome break from your hectic work life. You get a break from work, you learn something you always wanted to learn and feel the warmth of joy within.

Its an idea. I was scared of baring my soul and expressing this idea. But whatever. Now that’s out of the way. Its all yours. Hopefully if someday I have the money and the time and the drive, I just might do it.

Want to call it the “University of All Fun and No Regrets”.

The voice within...

Do you have a still small voice inside you?

I bet I have one. No I am not really talking about conscience that stops you from doing wrong or so. I am just talking about that voice that you keeps talking to you all the time. Maybe I am the only one who has voices inside my head.

The voice that tells you to change to a faster moving line to a ticket window. Then the same voice rebukes you for changing lines because your previous line is moving faster now.

When you see a man bathing in the sea water, this is the voice that tells you how blessed you are to have running hot water back home all the time.

When you see a couple walking hand in hand, lost in eachother, you smile to yourself and the voice makes you thank God for creating love that does make the world go around for some very blessed people.

When you are rushing off to a meeting and your car stops at a signal, you see college kids, with their low slung bags going about life with absolutely no worries. The voice tells you , those were the days. You sigh, smile to yourself. The signal has turned green. Time to go.

Himesh Rehammiya and Rakhi sawant are playing on the radio. Out of nowhere a Lucky Ali song comes on. The voice tells you, this dude is just divine and you don’t curse the radio anymore.

When the smell of wet earth after the first rains fills your lungs and the voice says, God should open a deo factory. He would run axe outta business in no time.

When you see a toddler trying to sail paper boats in a puddle, the voice tells you that innocence is still alive in times of Ipods and Xbox.
You are batting on 41. 9 runs to go for your half century. Suddenly a bouncer comes out of no where.and gets you on your bottom hand. This is the voice that tells you to stand your ground. Don’t lose any psychological ground. Stand there and stand firm. 3 overs later you are still around with 54 n.o.

Its time to argue again. You say something. Your friend throws one back and the volley continues. Suddenly you lose your cool completely and say something. You say and realise you shouldn’t have said it. You feel like crap for the ensuing seconds. Your friend has a look of disbelief on his face. How you could you say that? You are asking the same question to yourself. Your voice tells you, its time to apologise. You were unfair. The argument became unfair. You crossed your limits. It no more remains about whether or not you prove your point. Just say sorry. You were wrong. You apologise. And hope things remain the same. Sometimes they don’t.

Listen to your voice. It speaks volumes if you pay attention.

Time Travel

It was weird. The silence was eerie. I checked once again whether I had come back to the right house. It was the same. I gave a questioning look to my dad and he just shot back, “Nepal mein chor kyun nahi hote hain?”. I was like “huh?”. He replied, “Kyunki wahaan sab gurkha hote hain!!”. He thought it was really funny. Then I said “ok dude why is the TV off? Its time for mom daily soap opera dose.” Dad replied, “I already answerd u son, TV is off coz there is no reception. The whole gurkha joke was about that”.
Truly enough, there were no channels on air. I had mixed feelings. Firstly I was relieved that I had to no more bear with those soap operas which keep taking these 20 year leaps, have a lifetime supply of white hair colour and people just refuse to die or worse still.. come back from the grave. It can be a topic in itself.

On the other hand, I was missing the news, my car n bike show, the sports channels, the movie channels, National Geographic Megastructires season II(WOW!!!) etc etc.
For a moment I thought this was my chance to do some time travel. I was back in 1991. Pre-liberalisation era was back for two days. All we had to watch was DD national and DD Sahyadri. It wasn’t a weekend or else I would have been able to catch the weekend movie too. The nth rerun of Tezaab or Mr.India or someother bollywood potboiler. Radio was playing after ages and it was almost a novelty to hear, “Ye Akashwaani hai”.

I wonder if most of India even took note of this historical moment experienced by Mumbaikars. For one, most of India was not affected and secondly DD still is the only channel viewed by most indians as its reach is unparalleled.

Still the issue remains. How can one person decide what I Shud or shud not watch on TV? Its my TV, I pay the bloody cable bills whats your problem? There is childlock, what channels to program on my TV is up to me so why the moral policing? And honestly, there is always a way to beat the system and we Indians are brilliant at it.

All I wanna say to chaps who think every Mumbaikar is still in kindergarten… GROW UP ANF GET A LIFE….!!!